stood so close all he would have had to do was lean forward a few inches to kiss her cheek. The idea that he was even thinking about such a thing shocked him.
Em wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. In truth, she wasn’t much of a woman at all. She rode like a man, talked like a man—hell, half the day she swore like a man. She wasn’t like the girls he’d known in saloons, but she wasn’t the soft female he wanted for a wife.
But right here, right now, with her only inches away, she certainly didn’t smell like a man. Her small kindness touched him in an odd way.
Lewt laughed. He’d been around horses so long today he was starting to act like one. Smelling out for a mate didn’t seem like a good plan.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know,” he answered.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
Her bluer-than-blue eyes reminded him of fragile Wedgwood china. “I was thinking I’d like to say thanks for helping by kissing you on the cheek.”
“Don’t even think about it or I’ll—”
He took a step back. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t. Between your attitude and your looks I wouldn’t imagine many men would.”
He saw the hurt in her eyes and wished he could take his words back before the echo of them settled in the barn. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d taken her insults all day without a word, but when he’d tossed one back, he felt lower than slime in a dirty horse trough.
“I’m sorry,” he said, fighting the urge to touch her and brush away the pain he’d caused.
“Forget it.” She turned her back to him. “Go do your courting and stop bothering me.”
He tried to think of something else to say but was afraid he’d only cause more damage. This tough woman who did a man’s work all day wasn’t quite as hardened as she wanted everyone to believe. Somehow, if it took him the rest of the week he had here, he’d make it up to her.
“Where do you eat supper, Em?” It occurred to him that she couldn’t join the hands in the bunkhouse, and she couldn’t join the McMurrays. “Do you ride home first?” She’d said she lived at home, but he’d never thought to ask how close home was.
“I’ll eat in the kitchen with the two girls who clean,” she answered. “When the weather’s bad like this, I can bunk in with them.”
He knew he’d be prying if he asked more, but he was glad she didn’t eat alone. “Well,” he said. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Lewt grabbed his hat and coat and walked toward the house. The temperature had dropped with the sun, but he barely felt it. He went in the front door of the big ranch house and met the others in the huge living area they called the great room. They were all having a drink before the meal. Boyd, still wearing his riding clothes, seemed to be in the middle of a story about how he’d fought off horse thieves a few years ago. All the others circled around him and listened to every word, but Lewt didn’t buy all the details of the rancher’s story.
Lewt poured himself a glass of water and joined them. The subject moved from horse thieves to being scarred as a child to who knows what else. Lewt stopped paying attention. Davis nodded at him when he entered and the ladies smiled at him when he caught their eye, but not one of them made a comment about where he’d been or what he’d done all day. No one noticed his new clothes even after he’d taken his time making sure he was dressed appropriately for a change.
Lewt decided he was a six-foot invisible man standing in the center of the room. When he moved in to dinner, it didn’t get much better. The place cards for the evening put him between Mrs. Watson, the chaperone, and Mrs. Allender, Davis’s mother. Both ladies had the habit of talking to him at the same time.
After turning his head back and forth a dozen times trying to keep up with both their conversations, he finally just looked down at his food and ate. They didn’t seem to mind; they both kept talking.
Mrs. Allender was a dear whose only topic of conversation seemed to be her children and grandchildren. Mrs. Watson’s speech slowed with each glass of wine and her laugh grew louder.